


Everything Changes

by Southern_Breeze



Series: Before I Fall [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angels, Angst, Death, Demon Deals, Demons, Fallen Angels, Judgement, M/M, One Night Stands, Promotion, Prophecy, Repentance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Breeze/pseuds/Southern_Breeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Kuroshitsuji future (although not our future). Things seemed to be going as expected for the reapers. William has gotten a promotion, although he finds himself struggling with feelings towards Grell, who is having more than a few problems with the new supervisor. An increase in demonic activity seems to be their biggest concerns other than relationships, but it turns out to only be the beginning of something truly massive. Title has been changed. I had originally called this story "Before I Fall" but now I've decided to make it part of a series, and that is now the title of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix Co., Ltd. Used without permission but with a lot of respect.
> 
> A/N: I usually don't write more than one story at a time, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I will go back and finish "Undertaker Knows Best" (probably next week) but I just wanted to go ahead and write this chapter. This story will probably be a very BIG project.

**Chapter 1:**

The reaper realm had changed so much that it almost looked foreign to William. The shape of the buildings, the devices, and the technology; everything was so different and so new. There were times he almost felt out of place despite the fact this had been his home for over three centuries. Recently he had begun to feel old and a little tired, and even his reflection in his window seemed to agree. Once they reached a certain age, reapers could stop the outward appearance of aging, but they could also allow themselves to show the passage of time if they so desired. William had allowed just a hint of silver to grace his dark hair, and he rather liked the effect. Not only did it add a touch of senior professionalism, it stood as a testament that he had lived for a long time even among a world of immortals.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he turned slightly to look in that direction. "Enter," he simply said. His tone was low, but there was no need to speak loudly. There was no noise for his voice to compete with in his otherwise silent office.

The door opened and a petite, slender woman stepped into the room. She was every inch the professional from her light brown hair that was curled in an exact bun on the back of her head to her smooth, wrinkle free attire. She was an attractive woman, but there seemed to be something lacking in her personality and identity other than her office duties. William recognized these traits with irony since she was almost as much his reflection as his image in his window. "I have the reports from the dispatch agencies' supervisors," she announced in a regular tone as she held out a rather thick stack of files in her hands.

"Please set them on the desk, Miss Hager," he instructed.

She crossed the room, her legs scissoring beneath the pencil skirt that did well to emphasize the gentle flair of her hips and the way her legs tapered down gracefully to her ankles. Her outfit, however, was more than a uniform and a symbol of her position than one designed to make her look feminine and sexy. "I also have a letter here from the High Council," she said, laying the aforementioned letter on his desk. "May I get you anything, sir?"

"No thank you," William replied.

There was no readable expression on the woman's face when she nodded her head in response and quickly started to leave the room. Just as she opened the door, she almost bumped into a man who happened to be standing there with his fist raised to knock. He smiled and laughed slightly at the near mishap. "I'm not trying to hit you, Miss Hager," he said sheepishly, "I was just going to check on Will here."

"Hello, Maynard," William greeted, "Can I help you?"

"I told you before to call me Marcus," was the ready response. Marcus stepped into the room around the secretary who seemed neither surprised nor flustered by his sudden appearance. Wordlessly, she left and closed the door gently behind her.

"I don't typically refer to my coworkers by their first names," replied William.

Marcus laughed again as he joined William by the large window that overlooked the heart of their realm. He wasn't a big man and he had to look up slightly to look William in the eye. His shoulders were narrow and for the most part he had quite a slim build. However, it appeared that he carried all of his excess weight in his head so that it ballooned above his body. His cheeks were round and slightly ruddy, and his tiny, restless eyes seemed to rest in fleshy hammocks. He had a ready smile, but his attitude had always seemed a bit too jovial for the workplace in William's opinion. Hearing that William preferred to use formal titles, Marcus laughed loudly and theatrically. "Loosen up, Will," he said, "The next round of promotions won't be for a while, and I'm not someone you need to impress. He laughed again, and William felt his face color slightly. It wasn't precisely a secret that he was working towards another promotion, but he didn't like others thinking that he insisted on professionalism just because he only thought of his own career.

"I don't like to fall into bad habits," William answered, stepping away from the window and moving towards his desk. He hoped that Marcus would get the hint that he had work to do and leave his office, but his rather annoying colleague let out a whistle instead.

"Hey, Will!" he shouted, "Are you ready for a round of spot the red reaper?"

Despite his intentions of getting to work, William turned again and looked out the window. Even at this distance, Grell was impossible to miss among the crowd that looked like tiny, boring ants milling off towards their hill. In the dispatch office, dress code regulations were much stricter than they had in the past, so gone was Grell's beloved coat he had taken from that woman, and his unruly, crimson mane was pulled back neatly. Even wearing the same clothes as everyone else, Grell still stood out. It was as if something in his very nature refused to allow him to become just another member of the crowd. Unlike Will, Grell hadn't allowed himself to physically age, so his hair was just as vibrant as it had ever been. If he had seen a gray strand, he probably would have panicked and immediately had it dyed. A sudden, forbidden memory rose up in William of that hair spread out about Grell's reclined head like a scarlet halo, but he quickly shoved deep within a hidden recess of his mind as he turned away and returned to his desk.

"He certainly does stand out in a crowd," Marcus commented, apparently unaware that William felt uncomfortable. "They say he's a lot of trouble. His current supervisor, uh…What's the name of the chap that took over your old position?"

"Stepp," William answered in the calmest voice he could manage.

"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, I heard he's been complaining about that one almost non-stop. Says he's impossible to control and always finding some way to make a scene. Was he that way when you were his supervisor?"

"Sutcliff has always been a handful," managed William, but immediately regretted his choice of words as his mind conjured images of Grell in his hands and in his arms.

"Yeah he almost cost you this promotion with that stunt of killing those women, didn't he," Marcus said, turning towards William briefly, "Good thing for you the council decided that you weren't responsible for his actions, or you'd never had gotten out of that dinky office you had." He turned his attention back to the window, although Grell was undoubtedly almost out of sight by now. "Of course, he is easy on the eyes, and they say that's not the only way he's easy, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "If he was my subordinate, I'd be assigning him some overtime bent over my desk."

William curled his hand into tight fists as he used every ounce of his strength to resist the urge to punch Marcus directly in his fat face. "This isn't an appropriate conversation for the office, Maynard," he said in as steady of a tone as he could muster, "Besides, I have some work I need to do."

"You really need to develop a sense of humor, Will," Marcus admonished, but he turned to leave. Opening the door, he turned back to look at William one final time. "You almost act like you actually had a thing for the freak," he said, punctuated his statement by closing the door behind him with more force than was necessary.

Once he was gone, William slowly let out a long breath that he had barely realized he had been holding. Truthfully, most of his anger towards Marcus' comments had been out of guilt. When he had been fighting for this promotion, he was more than a little relieved when the council had decided that he wasn't to blame for Grell's actions. After all, William wasn't responsible – at least not directly. While it was true he had noticed that Grell had been acting peculiarly but did nothing to learn what might be troubling the redhead, and he might be partly to blame for Grell's weakened state of mind, he hadn't been the one to actually murder anyone. That was solely Grell, and, in order to obtain his promotion, he had been more than ready to throw Grell under the bus.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing that Grell had been under.

Plus, Grell was the subject of a lot of rumors. William had heard all of the talk, and while he knew that a lot of the gossip was untrue, Grell actually seemed to encourage the less than savory reputation he seemed to inspire. He purposely flirted with the very gossipmongers that so sullied his name, and every other word that seemed to slip past his lips was an innuendo. If he had been here just now, he probably would have cozied up to Marcus and acted flattered by the crude comments, despite the fact that William doubted Grell would actually entertain any of thought of being with the man. While Grell acted as if he was immoral, oversexed moron, William did know him well enough to realize it was mostly an act. Grell was far choosier over who he actually allowed in his bed.

But he had allowed William, and he was sure the redhead would have done so again if he was given a chance, despite the way that William had treated him.

He shook his head slightly as if trying to physically dispel the thoughts and unconsciously adjusted his glasses, but his mind was fixated. The sounds, smells, touch of skin on skin – it was all so real that it felt like all of his senses were on fire. In an attempt to regain control, he picked up the letter from the council and began to read.

It seemed that there had been an increase in demon activity being reported in other parts of the world. While it hadn't reached their area, it was still recommended that all dispatch supervisors report any demonic activity and take necessary precautions if needed.

William grabbed a clean piece of paper and quickly scribbled a note saying as much to the dispatch supervisors that were under him…

(Grell had been under him.)

…as it was his job as the vice president of supervisory affairs. He only hoped that everyone would take the warning seriously. While it may never actually affect anyone in their offices, it was still important to be ready. You could never be too careful when it came to dealing with demons.

Or relationship with coworkers.

((X))

Grell walked down the well waxed floor of the academy as she headed towards the broom closet that someone had the audacity to call an office. The tiny room had barely enough space for her desk, a chair for her, and a chair for any student wishing to speak to her. Despite this, she had been able to make the space truly hers with a couple of pictures to decorate her desk, a full length mirror on the back of the door, and a few other wall hangings that truly denoted this as being her office. Smiling softly, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

A reflection of a stranger greeted her. Jasper, the current dispatch supervisor, had really gone overboard with the new clothing regulations. Everything had to be black; black slacks, shoes, vest, jacket, gloves, and tie. The only exception was the white dress shirt, but the style and cut of was just as heavily regulated. It was as if the man was allergic to color and any sense of fashion. Every field agent even had to wear the same style of glasses and no extra trinkets or ornaments was allowed. Grell had tried to rebel in every little way possible in the beginning, until Jasper stated he could easily make a rule concerning hair length. At that point she decided it wasn't worth the effort to keep fighting the frivolous rules. Besides, no matter how plainly they made her dress, they could never fully hide her brilliant inner light.

She removed the plain black jacket and tie and laid both on the desk. A hanger suspended a nearby nail she had placed herself held her very special, red coat. Putting the coat on, she allowed it to drape just above her elbows as she always had before hanging up the drab jacket. Her red and white striped tie was in a desk drawer along with some makeup, and her favorite red and black high heeled boots were setting under the desks. Within minutes, was looking more like her old self, her real self, as she put on her signature red glasses with the chain and released her hair in a crimson tide. Thankfully, while the academy still had a dress code for instructors, it wasn't nearly as strict or monochromatic. She was free to dress as she had before, back when things were better – back when things were right. William had been close at hand and not holed up in some office she couldn't even visit without an appointment.

However, as she quickly ran a brush through her hair, she realized that just because she had been in close proximity to Will, she still had never been any closer to the actual man. There had been two times that she had manage to bridge the gap between them, but both times she had been pushed away afterwards. The pain had been very real and intense, especially on the second occasion, and her bruised emotions had were laced with anger. There had been a time when she thought she truly hated the man, but her real emotions always won out in the end. In a way, it was a curse to be able to fall in love with someone so deeply who seemed determined to reject her, but it wasn't as if she could change the way her heart felt.

"Oh, Will," she whispered to her reflection, "I've given you two chances. I'd be willing to give you a third, but you can't use me and reject me again. I don't think my heart could take it." Her reflection's only answer was to stare back at her with sorrowful eyes.

Blinking out of her thoughts, she made some last minute adjustments to her makeup and ended by blowing a kiss at her reflection. "There you are, gorgeous," she said to the mirror, "I knew you were just hiding under all that drab."

Leaving her office, she walked down the hall, the clacking of her heels announcing her arrival to all in the vicinity. After all, it would be the first day of classes for the latest group of new students and she had to make a memorable first impression. Fashionably late, she strolled into a room full of nervous students, and their conversations slowly tapered as she walked across the room and sat on top of the desk. The academy itself had changed considerably over the years, especially with the influx of newly reborn reapers. Classes were now broken up and specialized, and Grell actually rather liked the subjects she had been assigned to teach. "Welcome to 'Introduction to the Proper Use and Care of Your Scythe,'" she greeted, "I'm your instructor, Miss Sutcliff. Just so you know, I don't particularly care much for teaching, so I'll do my best to make this as painless an experience as I can for both of us."

The class murmured their appreciation as Grell twisted slightly and picked up a training scythe from her desk. "Has everyone been given their training scythes?" she asked.

Everyone nodded, but then one young man tentatively raised his hand. "Yes?" Grell prompted, pointing towards him.

He stood up nervously and ran a hand through his hair – which Grell noted to be soft red in color. Inwardly she smiled as she felt an immediate kinship towards a fellow ginger, although his hair lacked the vibrancy of her own. He even had pale freckles across his nose much like the ones she kept carefully hidden with makeup. "I was wondering," he began, "Why are we, uh, training with those. Once we graduate, aren't we given a different type of scythe?"

"Good question, Mr.…"

"Salyers," the boy offered, "Jimmy Salyers."

"Good question, Jimmy," she said, barely suppressing a giggle the way the boy's face had colored when she had opted to use his first name. "When, or rather if, you graduate, you will be given a choice of three basic scythe models to use, and one is quite similar to the training model. Besides, it's been shown to be the best to train new reapers like yourself. Of course, some of you may eventually qualify for my honors class, which is Scythe Modification." Smiling, she laid the training scythe and extended her arm so that her chainsaw materialized in her grasp. She saw the surprise painted on many of the students' faces, which only made her own smile grow. "One day you may have a scythe like my baby here. Not exactly the same of course. If you do want to customize your scythe, it will be have to be a design that best suits you." She laughed lightly. "I may be a lady, but I have a very large, powerful scythe," she couldn't resist adding.

"It doesn't look that big," announced a rather deep voice from the back of the room.

The speaker was a tall, young man with a strong build. He had a dusky complexion and ebony hair that made his reaper eyes seem to glow by contrast, but there was a strength shimmering in those dual irises. Grell's smile widened and she allowed him full view of her razor sharp teeth to show that she was up to the challenge.

"I didn't realize you've had so much time to measure the strength and durability of very many scythes," she replied in a mock innocent tone, "What's your name?"

He crossed his arms across his chest, but his didn't shift from her direct gaze. "Robert Marcum," he said.

"Well, Bob," she began, "I assure you that I'm neither exaggerating its strength or its power, but I'd be more than happy to show you." She jumped off the desk and arranged her coat. "Come on, everyone. Bring your trainee scythes and follow me outside."

She led the way as they filed out of the academy building into a grassy area just outside. It looked as if it was a beautiful day, but the weather here was false as it was controlled completely by the higher powers. The sun shimmering in the faultless blue expanse of the sky was little more than a well-hung painting, and no one had any reason to fear the soft, green gas beneath their feet to trigger allergies. It was all a false beauty, but Grell didn't want to take time to consider that just now.

As everyone stepped outside, she quickly counted and saw that she had twenty-eight students, which was at least eight more than was the maximum number usually allowed, but it couldn't be helped. Quickly, she divided them into four groups and had them stand in straight lines of seven. "You can have the most magnificent scythe in the world," she began, "but it doesn't mean anything if you don't know how to use it. Allow me to show you." She returned her chainsaw back to where it was stored when not in use and took a trainee scythe exactly like the ones they were using from inside her coat. "You four who are first in line, I want you to try and attack me. You will have 7 minutes. If any of you can actually hit me, then we'll dismiss class early. After 7 minutes, the next group of four gets their turn and so forth."

"Do you really want us to attack you?" asked a slender boy with brown hair that seemed to determine to stick out in every direction. "What if we hurt you?"

"Oh, you won't hurt me," she assured, "Now when it's not your turn, please keep an eye on your watches and yell out 'time' when seven minutes have passed. We want everyone to have the same opportunity. Does that sound fair to everyone?" There were some nods, although several still looked unsure. "Then, first group, go!"

There was a brief moment of hesitation, but then the four students leapt forward in unison. It was impressive they way they worked together so efficiently, but still none of them could really compare to Grell when it came to physical skill. Most held back too much, their scythes shaky in their grasps, and she only had to jump lightly to avoid their amateurish attempts.

Time was up, and the next group had their turn, followed by the next group. It was the same story over and over again. Grell saw a few that had raw talent and potential that could definitely be molded, but none really stood out. In a sense, it was about the best she could have expected, but she couldn't help but be mildly disappointed.

Someone yelled it was time and the last group jumped forward for their turn. She dodged the first three students with ease, but suddenly a scythe came far too close to her ear. She jerked her head back in time to avoid losing an ear or having an impromptu haircut. Turning quickly, she saw the grinning face of Robert Marcum, and she wasn't terribly surprised. The strength and aggression in his eyes only intensified as he swung his scythe. His arc was deadly but wild. If he made contact, he would have done some serious damage, but he hadn't really learned to control the tool.

"I thought you knew how to use that thing," she quipped, "or was it really all for show after all." She effortlessly knocked the other students away and saw them sitting back in the grass in something of a daze as she faced off against Robert.

He truly was the best of the class in this arena, and some part of her saw a younger version of herself in this student. She had been angry and more than a little aggressive during her academic career. It was a time when she was confused about her own identity, and she took this confusion out on other innocent students until she had been viewed as a bully and a troublemaker. Almost no one even remembered that particular phase of her reaper life except for her…and perhaps William.

Robert lashed out; jumping forward so that he landed his weight clumsily on his right leg and leaving his entire abdominal region open to attack. Grell took the given opportunity by hooking her scythe behind the curve of his own and then kicking the young man in the stomach. She could have easily hit him hard enough to have sent him to the infirmary, but she held back so that it only knocked him a few feet away. His scythe dangled on the curved blade of her own and she grabbed it in her right hand and twirled it effortlessly. Like most naturally left-handed individuals, Grell had learned to be quite ambidextrous over her many, many years.

"And that's time," Grell said, turning slightly away from Robert to face the rest of the class. "As you can see, even the most basic tool is powerful in the hands of a capable reaper. Now, you can go. I believe we have about five minutes of class time remaining, but I don't care to release you early. This is your first day after all."

As the students began to walk away, Grell called after them. "Now, don't go losing your scythes and practice using them. Just don't hurt each other. We don't need any one-armed reapers roaming around." She giggled at her own joke as she walked over to Robert, who was still sitting on the ground. "Not bad for your first try," she commended, holding out her hand to him.

He looked gruffly at the offered hand for a moment before finally accepted the help. With a strength that seemed in direct contrast to her own lithe form, she lifted him to his feet and handed him his trainee scythe. He rubbed at his stomach with his free hand, as his eyes, almost hidden by his dark brows that hung low in frustration, stared at her intently. "I will be better than you one day," he growled.

Grell cocked her head to the side. "You can try," she returned, "but only two reapers ever bested me when it came to fighting with scythes, and I doubt you'll ever be able to compare to either of them." She sighed softly as thoughts of William invaded her mind.

Robert looked at her strangely for a few minutes before finally turning and walking away, grumbling to himself with every step. Despite his attempts to actually cut her, Grell had to admit she liked this feisty young reaper. If he learned how to control that temper, he would undoubtedly be good at his job, especially now that they were dividing up the workload. Students about to graduate actually handled the majority of the paperwork to allow field agents, like herself, to focus on the physical aspect of gathering souls. It was an arrangement that suited her quite well.

"Senior! Senior Sutcliff!" a familiar voice called to her.

Turning, she saw Ronald running towards her from the front doors of the academy; his tone toned hair bouncing as he moved. Like her, he had been roped into teaching a few classes this semester. It was strange that he was now considered one of the senior reapers because, to her, he still seemed like a kid fresh from the academy. "Ronnie!" she yelled back, throwing up her hand to wave.

He wasn't even out of breath as he reached her. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Fine. I just finished teaching my first class of this semester," she answered.

"What are you teaching this time around?"

"Scythe basics," she replied, "And an honors class in scythe modifications."

Ronald wrinkled his nose. "I got stuck teaching Ethics."

"I hated that class!" Grell exclaimed, "The instructor tried to fail me even though I had a passing grade."

"Why'd he do that?"

"Well, it wasn't a secret that I didn't like him or the way he taught the class," she began, "Before every test he'd tell us exactly how many we needed to get right to get a C, so I would get exactly that many right. I'd just give the most ridiculous answers to the rest of the questions. I remember once the question was what to do if you were working with a partner and your partner was attacked and outnumbered by demons."

Ronald nodded. "I remember that question. I got it wrong because I wrote that you should try and save your partner."

"The correct answer is that you're supposed to evaluate the situation and make sure the soul you were sent to collect has been safely gathered before you do anything else," she explained, "but I wrote it all depended on how good looking my partner was and if he owed me any money."

Immediately, Ronald burst into laughter that would make Undertaker envious. "I would say that I don't believe it, but that sounds just like something you'd come up with." He draped his arm loosely about Grell's shoulders in a friendly, familiar manner. "Are you heading back to dispatch now?"

"Well, first I need to change my clothes – again. But, I do need to hurry so I'm not late again. I don't need for Jasper, I mean Mr. Stepp, to yell at me."

"He does yell at you a lot," Ronald agreed, "I think he's worse for that then Willia…" Ronald's voice trailed, and it was obvious he hadn't meant to bring up that particular person to Grell. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologized.

"That's okay, Ronnie," Grell said, wrapping her slender arms around her chest as she looked up at the faux sky in thought. "I know you didn't mention him on purpose. I really don't understand William though. I mean, it's the maiden who's supposed to be up in the tower without ever coming down and not the prince."

To his credit, Ronald seemed to realize there was nothing really he could say, so he simply stood by Grell's side as she considered the matter in her mind. The situation with William hurt, and she could feel minute twitching in her eyes that warned of tears, but she held it in. The one thing she didn't want to do in front of anyone was cry, at least not for real. She could let a crocodile tear loose if the situation demanded it, but she wouldn't actually cry – not in front of Ronald.

Not in front of anyone.

((X))

The dense smoke hung heavily on the air as the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh intermingled with the smoke and warned everyone in the vicinity that a great tragedy had occurred. A shell of a once rather plain building stood in the middle of scene; belching smoke as if it was an active volcano that had been previously thought to be dormant. There were no more screams from inside. After the initial explosion, screams had erupted from within the flames of all those who had been trapped inside. A few had made it out of broken windows to wander out towards the gathering crowd; bleeding from countless wounds and their skin blistered and blackened. Now, there was no noises from inside the building except for the crackling of the fire and occasional crash as something disintegrated and fell.

Outside the former factory there was chaos. There were feeble attempts to put out the fire, but the blaze had already gone on for too long. Now efforts were being focused mostly on not allowing the fire to spread. Outside of caution tape, people gathered and shuffled about in uneasy groups. Some were crying, hanging on to others like the only security they had on earth, while others screamed for loved ones that had been lost. More than few were praying – some asking for miracles for ones already given up for dead by the crowd while other prayers went up requesting strength and comfort for those left alive. Other people had gathered simply out of morbid curiosity and were flittering about gawking and taking pictures.

Inside the building, cloaked from all human eyes, Alan and Eric made their way through the wreckage. Although the flames couldn't touch them, the smoke and the smells of chemicals mixed with burning skin, made Eric's eyes water and itch from behind his blue-tinted glasses. Bodies were strewn about randomly, it was obvious which ones had died from the initial explosion and the victims of the following fire. Eric wrinkled his nose in disgust before turning his attention to Alan, who was calmly viewing a cinematic record. "It's a mess here, isn't it?" Eric asked.

Alan glanced at him and shrugged slightly, but it was obvious he was more upset than he was willing to admit. "These factory accidents are always terrible," he agreed, pausing to run a hand through his feathery brown hair.

"I'm not sure if it's the sight or the smell that's worse," Eric added, moving over to Alan. "Are you okay?" he asked, "You're looking a bit pale."

"I'm fine," Alan replied, moving on to the next body.

"I know we were both assigned to this collection," Eric began, "but why don't you take a break. I can finish this by myself."

"I said I'm fine," insisted Alan, but then he sighed. "I didn't mean to speak so sharply, but if Stepp finds out that I didn't work as hard as you, he'll see it as a reason to transfer me. You know that he would."

"Yeah," Eric agreed with a slight growl. Their new supervisor, Mr. Jasper Stepp, made William look both pliant and gentle. William had always allowed Eric and Alan work together just in case Alan had an attack from the Thorns. They both had always worked hard, and Alan actually had the best completion records in the office. In fact, if he hadn't been sick, there was a strong possibility that he would have been made supervisor after William's promotion despite him being so much younger. Eric and Grell had actually worked longer as field agents, but neither one was seen as supervisory material, and Eric honestly agreed with that assumption. After Stepp had been promoted to the recently vacated position, he had done everything he could to assert his authority. He had gotten much stricter about the dress code and had come up with a whole list of unnecessary rules. When Eric had made a point to say that Alan and he had always worked together, Stepp had coldly replied that if Alan was unable to do his jobs on his own then he had no business being a field agent. Stepp simply wouldn't listen to reason, and Eric had gotten to the point that he was curious how long of a suspension he would get if he slugged the man. Finally, Alan had actually made a point to see William who had went to talk to Stepp on their behalf. In the end, they were allowed to work together, but they had to do two complete workloads because Stepp seemed convinced that the other agents would be jealous. No one had ever been jealous of them working together before, but Eric was smart enough not to argue with the arrangement. While they had to work harder, at least he got to stay with Alan in a vain attempt to keep his lover safe.

Staying near Alan, Eric also got to work. It wasn't a particularly hard assignment, but there were enough who had died in the accident it was time consuming and tedious. The fire had all but died down as they set about collecting the last few souls that remained, but then something caught Eric's attention. There was a demon in the vicinity and, judging from the smell which had managed to permeate the stench of burning corpses, it was very close. Immediately, he turned to Alan and the smaller reaper nodded quickly to say that he was also aware of the demon.

After they finished with the last soul, the two left the building, still cloaked so that they were invisible to all mortals, but they didn't immediately create a portal to the reaper realm. Instead, they both took a moment to see if they could spot the demon they had both sensed and smelled. Night was fast approaching, but Alan still spotted a pair of glowing eyes watching them from a nearby tree, and discreetly pointed it out to Eric. There appeared to be only one, and it seemed to be only watching them at the moment. Relieved that there was no immediate danger beyond the demon's presence, Eric created the portal. He allowed Alan to step through first before taking one last look in the demon's direction before walking into the portal.

The portal had taken them outside of dispatch, so they quickly walked inside and made their way to their shared office. In the hallway, they ran into their new supervisor, who did not appear to be in a good mood.

Jasper Stepp was a tall, slightly lanky individual with dark hair that was clipped short and precise. His icy eyes, like shards of green glass, pierced the two, as if he had expected them to be doing something that they shouldn't be at that moment. Eric felt a surge of anger when he came face to face with him, just as he always did, but Alan was able to speak rationally.

"We just finished the assignment at the factory explosion, sir," he said respectfully.

Jasper tugged at the lapels of his perfectly tailored jacket. "You're only finished now?" he asked, "With two of you working, that job shouldn't have taken nearly as long. When on the clock, I expect all workers to completely their jobs efficiently and in a timely manner."

"We saw a demon by the factory," Eric suddenly said. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but he just wanted to shut Jasper up before he went off on a self-righteous tangent about employee standards that both unreasonable and unrealistic.

"Did the demon try to take any of souls or attack either of you?" inquired Jasper.

"No," Alan replied, "It appeared just to be watching us from a tree."

"Make sure you include it in your report," Jasper said in a distracted tone, his attention obviously drawn to something down the hallway. "Sutcliff! Sutcliff, what are you wearing?" He hurried away to confront Grell about some apparent dress code violation, and Eric led out a sigh of relief. Hoping not to draw any more attention to themselves, they slipped quietly into their office.

"Sometimes I really don't like that guy," Eric said under his breath.

"He can be abrasive," Alan agreed, being far too generous.

Eric walked over to him and wrapped his arms around the smaller reaper's shoulders to pull him close. "You're too nice for your own good," he commented, "So, why do you think that demon was there?"

Alan rested his head against Eric's chest, closing his eyes in apparent satisfaction. "Probably just all the souls in the area," he replied, "Still, I hope we don't run into any more."

Nodding wordlessly, Eric looked down at Alan and felt as if he wished this moment would never end. At the same time, he couldn't help but still that tiny voice of worry that nagged in the back of his mind that the appearance of the demon was far much dangerous than anyone could have guessed.

((X))

She moved through the night with agility and grace without bothering to cloak her form. Any humans who happened to glance her way would have only seen an impossibly beautiful, nude woman moving and jumping in ways that were as equally impossible and fantastic to the eyes. Some of the poor fools might have even thought she was an angel.

The demoness smiled to herself at the irony.

She stopped at the base of a tall tree in a grassy clearing, and stood for a moment as the breeze danced about and caressed her unclothed body. Even the Earth itself seemed to be in love with her and her glorious appearance, even if it was all a lie. For now, she appeared to be a tall woman with long golden tresses, ice blue eyes, and the kind of figure that upon which many a fantasy had been molded. The sweet smell of smoke and death still clung in the air like an exotic perfume, but she had not come to view the beauty of the destruction. "Mist?" she asked, "Are you here?"

"I'm here, Lilith," answered a breathy voice that wasn't clearly identifiable as male or female. Following the voice, a black, vapor-like figure twisted around the trunk of the tree until it hovered above the ground. Mist had no discernable physical attributes other than the black void that comprised of the body and a chalk white, featureless face.

"I sensed divine beings in this place. Have they come?" Lilith asked as eagerly as a child asking for presents on Christmas.

Mist made a noise that might have been considered a chuckle. "I came for the same reason, but I was mistaken. It was only two grim reapers."

Lilith pouted, pursing out her full lips. "When do you they'll be here and where will we meet them?" she asked.

"Dragon did not tell us the time or location," came the steady answer, "We must be patient."

"Patient! How can we sit by and wait? We need to know what our next step should be before it's too late." Lilith crossed her arms across her chest and moved to the edge of the clearing so that she could see where the recent factory explosion had occurred. On the outskirts of the group, she noticed a rather tall, handsome man who was neither crying nor praying. Perhaps he was a reporter or simply a curious bystander, but it didn't particular matter to her. Simply stated, she was hungry and he looked like a suitable meal.

Giggling she waved her right arm to cloth herself in a modest white blouse, blue skirt, and high heel shoes that were the same shade of blue as her skirt. The outfit wasn't too revealing, but she filled it out well and she knew that the man would probably be quite enthralled by her appearance. Besides, she had learned that bait is often most effective when there's just a little left to the imagination. "I'm not going to take a chance at going hungry," she said, "I'm going to feed while I know that I still can."

"We wouldn't actually go hungry," Mist offered, "We would feel hunger, but we wouldn't be able to starve."

"I know that," Lilith hissed, "but I don't like feeling hungry." A serpentine smile took hold of her features as her eyes took on a glow that rivaled the very fires of Hell. "No," she said again, "I don't want to feel hunger, and I'll do anything to keep from it."

With an icy laugh, she skipped towards the throng of people that was still gathered and towards the man she hoped would be her unsuspecting victim.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter everyone. I am going to go back to my other story, but I feel like this one has hijacked me right now. Because this is set in the Kuro future, some characters may seem a little different since I think they might have changed over time. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read my story.

Chapter 2:

It was a tiny farm situated on a quiet patch of earth far away from any towns or cities. To the casual observer, the small cottage-like house looked cozy and old-fashioned and it probably conjured up images of an elderly, withered couple who had lived on this piece of land for all of their lives. In truth, the current resident was old, far older than any human could have ever lived, but he was neither withered nor part of a couple. With the exception of a few animals that wandered about, Undertaker lived here alone.

Grell was leaning on a fence rail that surrounded a small horse lot and casually watching as Undertaker rode a tall Palomino. She knew that farm life was supposed to be comforting, but between the smell of hay and manure that hung cloyingly in the air, she found it more of an irritant. Watching Undertaker ride with ease, she couldn’t help but how much this change affected him. He barely even looked like himself these days. Now that he was no longer a mortician, he couldn’t have dressed the same – and the style of dress for his old profession had changed even if he still had been allowed to act as an undertaker. Currently, he was wearing a black button-up shirt that was tucked into a pair of rather tight, dark jeans and paired with a pair of black boots. His hat had gone the way of his robes, but at least his silver hair was still as long as ever. He typically wore it in a long braid to keep it out of the mud and the muck associated with farm life.

Turning towards her, he threw up his hand and smiled, but even his old smile seemed tempered with just a hint of sadness. Dismounting, he walked over to where she was leaning on the rails, the sun dancing on the lenses of the glasses he now wore when there were no mortals around to catch of glimpse of his riveting eyes, and casually leapt over the fence to stand next to her.

“Beautiful horse,” she commented, gesturing towards the animal.

Undertaker glanced over his shoulder at the pale, cream and white colored creature, who was stamping his feet and whinnying impatiently as he stared over the fence towards the fields beyond. “Yes, he is.”

“It seems like he wants to get out and run,” she said.

He chuckled lightly, but even his laugh seemed to be slightly altered and dulled. “That’s just because he’s a stallion. They’re restless by nature.”

The redhead was more than a little convinced that he was holding something back, but decided not to push the matter at the moment. “I feel restless too,” she announced.

He cocked his head slightly as he looked at her; an expression of concern passing over his scarred features. “What’s wrong, my dear?” he asked, “You’re not your usual, fiery self today. Where’s that’s little spitfire that always makes me laugh?”

“The powers that be are trying to keep her contained,” she mumbled, leaning heavier against the rail. “Not that it will do them much good.” As Undertaker continued to look at her, probing her saddened form with his far too observant eyes, she sighed loudly. “It’s the current dispatch supervisor,” she finally admitted, “I think he hates me. He’s always yelling at me for some little thing or another.”

“But Willy always yelled at you and it never upset you like this,” countered the ancient, “I thought you rather liked it actually.”

“Oh, it was different with Will,” Grell replied in a dreamy tone, “For one, I did usually deserve it when he yelled. I’d do things wrong on purpose just so he would yell.” She laid her head on her arms on the top rail. “Just so he’d notice me,” she concluded in a soft voice.

Undertaker looked at her for a few minutes silently. “I always thought he was too rough on you,” he finally stated in a strange tone.

Grell shrugged. “Other people said the same thing, but he wasn’t. Not really. I did deserve it most of the time.” She bit her lip slightly to keep from adding that what she didn’t deserve was to be used and tossed aside. The metallic taste of her blood filtered into her mouth, so she quickly stopped biting and licked her lips to try and hide the evidence. “But Jasper is a different story,” she announced, trying to steer the subject away from William. “He makes us dress like this all of the time.” She gestured towards her current outfit. Normally, she would have hated appearing before the ancient in such plain, unflattering attire, but she was technically on the clock. Soon, there would be a soul that needed to be collected, so she had to be following the dress code. Besides, as beautiful as she found the ancient, she had begun to doubt that he could ever find her as attractive. Will certainly never had.

In her mind, she cursed the dark-haired man who had so crushed her feelings and self-esteem, but her heart still loved him regardless.

“These clothes certainly don’t suit you,” Undertaker said, breaking through her thoughts, “but even dark colors can’t hide that beautiful, inner fire of yours – or even your external beauty.”

She smiled softly as a bit of that previously mentioned fire sparkled in her eyes. “Why Undie, darling,” she cooed, “If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re flirting with me.”

“Perhaps I am,” he replied mysteriously, moving closer to her.

It felt good to be standing so close to someone that was being so warm and kind. In fact, she felt a little bit like her old self as she leaned her head against his shoulder and absently played with the small silver braid that had been left out of the larger braid her wore in back. “You better be careful,” she warned, “I might just take you seriously.” After a few minutes, they simply stood there in silence before she raised her head and looked at him curiously. “Why are you letting them do this to you?” she asked, “You didn’t really have to come back and force you to play farm boy.”

He smiled. “You make it sound like you didn’t want you to come back,” he replied, leaning down close to her face so that they were staring into each other’s eyes.

“It’s not that,” she said, determined not to let him know how his proximity affected her, “But you loved being an undertaker, didn’t you?”

“Very much so,” he admitted raising up and gazing off into the distance. His luminous eyes took on a sort of wistful, dreaming look that reminded her of the stallion’s restlessness she had witnessed earlier.

“Then why come back and just buckle under the council’s demands?” she questioned, her voice rising slightly, “You stayed hidden for so long, and don’t tell me you didn’t play the role of an undertaker while you were gone. I mean, I’m glad you’re back. After I got over you cutting my face, which I admit did take some time, I’ve learned that I rather enjoy your company. But why did you return and just let them control you?”

“No one controls me,” he said in a low voice that was laced with danger.

“But aren’t they?” she demanded, “Aren’t they controlling…us?” Now that the question had finally been voiced, she felt simultaneous relief and embarrassment. The worry that she had let himself be controlled, to be constrained, had been silently nagging at her mind for far longer than she would even admit to herself. By saying the words and feeling the weight of their implications upon her tongue, it gave her a little freedom in accepting that this might be the case and more worry that she was becoming someone else entirely.

He looked back down at her, and she was partially afraid. She had never revealed this much of her fears before and she almost felt naked and exposed. “Can they really ever control us?” he asked in return, “We may act like we’ve become docile, but there’s still a part of us that can never be tamed. We’re like that stallion over there. You can put us in a fence, but we’re always looking for that moment we can escape.”

“I’m not a stallion,” she murmured as she moved a few steps away and faced the other direction. She had liked his words and wanted what he said to be true, but she still feared the worst. “So should I call you Farmer now instead of Undertaker?” Her fear caused just a touch of bitterness to seep into her voice.

“I’m really not much of a farmer, I’m afraid. I can’t get anything green to grow. I seem to kill everything I touch.” Undertaker chuckled lightly. “Force of habit, I suppose.”

She struggled not to laugh at that one. “But it doesn’t seem right to call you Undertaker anymore when you’re not one,” she said before glancing over her shoulder. “So, what should I call you now?”

The odd sadness that seemed so out of place slipped silently across the ancient’s face like a gossamer veil. “Names aren’t all that important, as long as you know who you are.” He looked at her intently as a soft breeze suddenly danced though the area and tugged at the few strands of hair that had slipped free. “Do you know who you are?”

She bristled slightly as a slight chill ran up her spine and she instinctively wrapped her arms around chest. “Of course I do,” she answered.

“That’s good to hear,” he said, moving over towards her once more and allowing his fingers to ghost along her chin. “Don’t forget it, and don’t let anyone mistreat you. Not even those you actually care about.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Before the ancient could answer, a high pitched ringing noise interrupted the surrounding peace. With an air of annoyance, Grell hit the button on her specially designed watch to silence the alarm, but she knew that it was time to leave and collect the soul she had been sent to collect. “I have to go,” she stated.

Undertaker ran his finger gently down her cheek. “Take care,” he instructed, “and be careful.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she retorted with a smile before laying her hand on his chest. “Don’t worry about me,” she instructed, “I’ll be fine.

A part of her wanted to stay here longer and to bask in the warmth of someone who didn’t find her an annoyance or wanted to shove her away, but she had a job to do. As she leapt into the air to hurry to the spot where she was needed, but she risked a single glance back at the lone figure of Undertaker. He looked so out of place there, but something else was bothering her. It seemed like he had been holding something back – as if there was something he had wanted to tell her.

((X))

 

_William had come here willingly even if he might claim differently later. Grell hadn’t really flirted as overtly as he had in the past, and it would have been easy for William to simply say that he wasn’t interested. He had done so many times before, but tonight things were different. He had no way of explaining it, but things simply weren’t the same as he merely nodded to Grell and followed him back to his apartment._

_The interior of Grell’s living space was nearly as bathed in red as some might imagine. There was dashes of that vibrant color that Grell so loved of course, but it wasn’t as overdone as William had feared. The couch in the living room, which was as far as they made it before collapsing together in a heap of grasping limbs and writhing torsos, was actually brown. The pillows at each end, one of which had unceremoniously been dumped onto the floor, were a vibrant red however, as was the area rug beneath the coffee table. As disorganized as Grell could be in the office, his apartment was amazingly neat and well-decorated._

_Of course William hadn’t come here to admire the interior._

_Fingers trembling with need jerked clumsily to remove clothing as they desperately tried to remove that final barrier between them. A distant part of William’s mind recognized how familiar and comfortable Grell felt in his arms, although this was only the second time they had ever been in this position. He really shouldn’t be here, but he felt like an alcoholic and Grell was the final glass of liquor. All he needed was that one last drink of the passionate reaper and he’d be able to walk away forever. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself._

_Grell’s hair, that glorious hair that always seemed to tease William’s imagination, spread around his head and framed his fair face. A pretty flush highlighted his cheeks as his two toned eyes gazed up at him with genuine need and emotion. “Oh Will,” he whimpered in a breathy tone. In that moment, William knew that he should stop. As good as this felt in the moment, he knew that Grell would only be hurt in the end. He really should stop._

_But he didn’t._

Will awoke with a start; his body jerking into an upright position as sweat from the dream caused his pajamas to cling to his body. He took several long breathes as he gathered his glasses from the nearby nightstand. The room swam into focus, which calmed him somewhat, but he couldn’t get rid of the guilt that clouded his mind. According to his clock, it wasn’t too early so he jumped out of bed and headed towards the shower. He wanted to stay busy – too busy for his mind to have time to dwell on the past. In the bathroom, he immediately stripped and tossed his pajamas in the hamper. Without looking, he knew that the pants needed to be washed after having that particular dream.

Stepping into the shower after setting his glasses on the sink, he turned on the cold water and allowed to pound into his back as he leaned his head against the tile. Even now, the memories were so vivid. The first time Grell and him had been intimate had been after a party in which William had, uncharacteristically, gotten drunk and gave in to baser instincts. He only partially remembered that particularly incident, but he had later told Grell that they could never be together since it would be inappropriate for someone in the supervisory position to be in a relationship with a subordinate. Grell had been obviously hurt, although he didn’t retaliate directly at William had feared. Instead, he had started spending far too much time in the mortal realm, and had somehow convinced himself he had fallen in love with a human woman before ultimately becoming one half of Jack the Ripper.

William finished showering and retrieved his glasses before staring at his own reflection in the mirror. It had been tough to discipline Grell because he had felt partially responsible. He couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t treated Grell so poorly, he might have not gone and done the things he had later. However, he had never admitted these feelings and had turned all of his guilt into tougher discipline and stricter actions towards Grell. He had heard all the rumors that he was actually acting a little like a bully towards the redhead, who obviously still had feelings for him, but he had did his best to convince himself he was just trying to do what was best for Grell. Oddly enough, Grell had never told anyone about their night together and had never mentioned it to William either, although he really had no idea why Grell choose to keep it a secret. Perhaps he was afraid that no one would believe him, but he still could have told.

William had been a little afraid of the punishment that Grell might receive for his actions, but he was only suspended for some time. After all, Grell was a capable reaper when he wasn’t distracted or acting foolishly. He even went back to flirting with Will as if nothing had ever happened between them and, as time progressed, things basically returned to normal. This had eased William’s guilt ever so slightly.

Time marched on and William was finally promoted to a higher position. A party had been thrown in his honor, and Grell had been there. He acted the same as always, but this time his little comment about William was no longer his direct supervisor had more of an effect than usual. They have left the party separately, as William had suggested, but met up quickly at Grell’s place. William couldn’t even blame alcohol on this occasion as he had been completely sober. Afterwards, he had simply left Grell while he slept without saying a word. Grell could no longer just walk into his office as access was restricted, and it had been easy to avoid his attempts at contact. After some time, Grell efforts to talk to William seemingly ceased. Oddly enough, he had apparently decided to pull one of William’s tricks and buried himself in his work. Although reports from the current supervisor were all negative and derogatory, William was still pleased because Grell actually acted as if he had moved on and, this time, no prostitutes had died in the process.

But had William truly moved on?

Without allowing himself to think on the matter anymore, he returned to his bedroom with only a towel draped about his hips and proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. Within a few minutes, the always professional, stern, and stoic William T. Spears was staring back at him from his mirror, but there was just a hint of something off in the depths of his dual irises. It almost looked like regret, but William did his best to shrug it off as he left his apartment and hurried down to dispatch. He still technically worked in the same building, although he his office was three floors higher, but he almost never ran into any of the field agents he had been the supervisor to for so long. He arrived earlier in the day, and typically worked later. Plus, there were special elevators that led to the upper floors, so their paths rarely crossed.

As usual, Miss Hager was already sitting at her desk and was typing with such a speed that William couldn’t help but wonder how she didn’t make more mistakes. She glanced up at him as he walked towards his office. “Good morning, Mr. Spears,” she greeted without any real emotion, “There are some new reports on your desk.”

“Thank you,” he answered rather distractedly as he walked into his office and shut the door. He usually felt secure and safe in this room as it was his own little sanctuary at work, but today he couldn’t seem to stop the memories and thoughts from assaulting his mind. To anyone merely watching him, his distress wouldn’t have been obvious as he walked over to sit behind his desk to look over the reports, but his insides felt as if they were swirling and twisting to the point of nausea. Taking a deep breath, he began to read the reports.

Almost immediately, he frowned as his intelligent eyes scanned the information from the dispatch supervisors. The first few reports of demonic activity in the area were beginning to filter in, just as he had feared. He would have to send out another memo recommending that all reapers work in pairs and that travel to the mortal realm should be restricted to all students except those working on their final exams. He scribbled a note quickly for Miss Hager to type up later, but then his eye happened to fall upon the last report and two names in particular.

Dropping his pen, he picked up the report when he found it had been submitted by Alan and Eric. With Alan’s delicate health, he was the last one of the field agents that should be exposed to demons, even with Eric by his side. Of course, William could think of at least one reaper that always been able to handle demons rather well, if he wasn’t foolishly trying to flirt with one of the accursed creatures, but William pushed that thought aside. It looked like it had been only a very minor incident with a single demon spotted in the vicinity, but he thought it would be best not to take it too lightly.

He stood quickly and straightened his jacket before leaving his office. “I’m going to step out for a moment, Miss Hager. I’ll be back soon,” he said, as he walked over to her and set the note he had written earlier on her desk. “Please type this up and have a copy sent to all of the dispatch supervisors.”

“Yes, Mr. Spears,” she answered automatically as she picked up the note.

William nodded and hurried towards the stairs. He could have easily taken the elevator, but some part of him didn’t want to take the time to wait for it. Besides, he was hoping that the walk would work off some of the nervous energy that seemed to be bubbling inside him, but it didn’t seem to work as he made his way to a floor that he knew all too well.

Little had changed, and walking down these halls was like slipping into a familiar, comfortable pair of old shoes. All those who saw him were quick to call out greetings, and he actually got the feeling he had been missed. There were still plenty of familiar faces that appeared to be missing, and a new chart on the wall near his old office explained their apparent absences. This chart, which wasn’t a bad idea, showed exactly where every reaper was supposed to be at any given time during the work day. Alan and Eric were on assignment, while Grell and Ronald were teaching currently. This evening, Grell and Ronald both had their own assignments, although William couldn’t help but notice that Grell had a much larger workload than anyone else – including Alan and Eric together. He tried not to openly frown as he knocked on the closed office door of the current supervisor.

“Come in,” a voice inside instructed.

William opened the door and saw Stepp sitting at his desk surrounded by paperwork. “Mr. Spears,” he said, obviously surprised, “I wasn’t expecting to see you sir? What brings you here?”

Closing the door behind him, William crossed the room and felt a pang of nostalgia at the all too familiar surroundings. “I saw a report saying that there’s been a demon spotted within the appointed area,” he answered, “and I wanted to make sure that the situation is being handled.”

Stepp looked confused as he leaned back in his chair. “It was only a single demon and it didn’t do anything to threaten the reapers who saw it,” he began, “There had been an explosion at a factory and there were a lot of deaths. That’s probably what had lured the demon out into the open.”

“Still,” William insisted, “there’s been a rise of demonic activity reported all over the world. We need to play it safe. I’d recommend making all the reapers work in pairs and limiting travel to the mortal realm for the time being. I’m sending the same recommendation to all dispatch supervisors.”

“Mr. Spears, sir, that just isn’t feasible,” Stepp countered, “You know how short-staffed we are around here, and that will especially be the case once we get rid of that red menace that prances around pretending to be a competent reaper.”

William narrowed his eyes, but managed to keep his voice steady. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been filling out the paperwork to have Sutcliff transferred,” answered Stepp, “There’s a new dispatch branch that recently opened that’s supposed to be the best at taking disagreeable agents and turning them into respective workers.”

“Are you talking about the new Reaper Reform Agency? That’s supposed to be only for agents unsuitable for field work.”

“And what is Sutcliff if not unsuitable?” Stepp returned, “Besides, we can finally get rid of him around here. He’s the joke of the department. He never turns his paperwork in on time, and he’s always behind on his assignments.”

William unconsciously adjusted his glasses. “I couldn’t help but notice that he’s been given more assignments than any of other field agent,” he said.

“He’s one of the senior field agents in this office. He should be able to handle it,” stated the supervisor firmly.

“And about this paperwork,” probed William, “I thought that was handled mostly by students now.”

Stepp met his gaze calmly, a hint of a cold smile on his face. “It is,” he answered, “but it’s still Sutcliff’s responsibility that it’s done correctly.” Motioning with his pen, he pointed to a stack of papers in the far corner. “Those are his, and I’m already positive there’s some little thing that could be corrected or worded more efficiently. I’m quite busy with all this paperwork, however, I don’t see how I’ll be able to get to them until it’s almost time to go home. Of course, if these aren’t finished today, I’ll have to write him up for turning things in late once again.”

William realized that Stepp wasn’t even trying to hide his intentions about setting Grell up for failure, which was odd. The current supervisor should have been more discrete, unless he thought that William felt the same and would look the other way. It made William feel more than a little uncomfortable. Had he really been so hard on Grell that Stepp actually believed that William would have done anything to get rid of him? After considering this a few minutes, he leaned closer so that he hovering just above Stepp.

“It’s good that you’re keeping your agents in line,” he said in a low tone, “but don’t start crossing boundaries. Discipline the workers as needed, but if you insist on creating problems for the field agents, I will personally report you. Do I make myself clear?”

Stepp looked surprised and he blinked several times as he look up at William. “But sir,” he began helplessly.

“Am I clear?” William reiterated.

“Yes, Mr. Spears,” Stepp finally managed.

William stood up and straightened his glasses. “Good,” he simply said before turning and leaving the room; imagining the look of surprise painted on Stepp’s plain face. Stepping out into the hallway, he took another glance at the chart before heading back to his own office to finish some paperwork. After all, there was something he had planned to do after work.

((X))

The air was unnaturally cool in that place; drifting and dancing about the barren, naked trees like an ice old ballerina. The grass was sparse and the few bushes were stunted and deformed. Sunlight rarely touched this spot, which made it the perfect place for their meeting.

A fire had been build, but it was more ambiance than purpose for none of them felt the chill nor did they need the light to see. Demon eyes were well attuned to the shadows, and it wasn’t actually night. There was just an odd shadow that always hung in the area like a tattered veil that gave it the appearance of perpetual dusk. Currently, Lilith was dancing about the flame – appearing like some forgotten pagan goddess. The firelight bathed her nude form, although none of her companions appeared to be taking any interest in the spectacle. Mist’s immaterial form hung nearby while a cloaked figure sat on a nearby rock. A fourth demon hung to the far side, although his gaze was focused on the opposite direction, which apparently annoyed Lilith. “Hey, Corvus!” she called out to him, “Why don’t you try being sociable for a change?”

“Leave him be,” hissed the cloaked figure, “Corvus thinks he’s better than us. Look at him. Sitting there trying to look all human.”

“As if you don’t like to take on a more pleasant form now and again, Lamira,” returned the seated demon, “And what about Lilith there? She’s dancing around in a human form as well, and we both know that isn’t how she actually looks.”

“That is Lilith’s nature,” Lamira replied, “but it was not yours in the past. You’ve changed, Corvus. You always were an odd one, but now it’s even more obvious. I heard that you went walking through the streets the other day disguised as just another human, but you weren’t out to feed. Such a strange thing to do.”

There was no direct answer, but the demon they referred to as Corvus shrugged his shoulders as he turned his head to look out into the surrounding woods once more. He had gone to London the other day, but it was mostly to see how things had changed. While he could have cloaked his form entirely, he preferred to walk among the humans at times just to see they fake they acted to him and to one another. Besides, there was no real danger.

After all, there no human alive that could have recognized the face of Sebastian Michaelis. 

He didn’t care what the others said because he didn’t think he had really changed all that much. Currently, the form he had chosen was somewhere between his pure demon form and the human one he sometimes adopted. The face was mostly human except for the glowing eyes and hint of fangs, as were his hands. There was the ghostly afterimage of the seal on the back of left hand, although that seal should have faded when his last contract ended. Now it appeared to be more like a brand, although Sebastian rarely looked at it even when he was considering his black fingers that were as long and sharp as talons. He was wearing pants over his mostly humanlike body which were rather formfitting and as black as his ebony hair. Jutting from that hair, were onyx horns that curved ever so slightly and a small pair of raven-like raggedy wings grew from his shirtless back. Those wings used to be much fuller, although never particularly suitable for flight, but the feathers had been steadily falling out for years as if he was in constant molt. 

“When will they be here?” Lilith complained lately, interrupting Sebastian’s thoughts.

“I don’t see why you’re so eager,” Sebastian said, turning back towards her, “I never did care much for angels.”

“Didn’t you used to be an angel?” asked Mist, “I’ve heard that you were one of the original fallen ones.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly, although his tone held a cold indifference that didn’t betray the anger that rose from such a question. “It doesn’t matter,” he answered, “I am a demon, and that’s all that’s important.” He stood up and stretched as if bored. “I think the better question is why we are even here. From all that I’ve heard and read, we’re supposed to lose the upcoming battle.”

“I’ve never heard you sound so pessimistic, Corvus,” Lamira stated, shifting slightly so that the end of her cloak lifted and revealed a hint of her scales.

“It’s not pessimism,” Sebastian replied as he did his best not to ask them to refrain from using his demon name. No doubt the others would have seen it as further proof of his supposed change, but there was just something about ‘Sebastian’ that felt familiar and comfortable these days. “I’m just saying that maybe we should try a new approach. By doing the same things that some dusty prophesy said we’re going to do is foolish, especially when that same prophesy says we’re going to fail.”

Lilith shrugged her shoulders. “This is what we were asked to do,” she said, “It’s not that I’m particularly fond of angels, but they have agreed to talk.”

“As we’re not particularly fond of demons,” a haughty voice announced.

All the demons about the fire looked up as three angels descended among their ranks. The speaker appeared to a beautiful woman with hair that was long and flawlessly white. Her wings and dress were the same pure white so that it looked as if her entire form had been wrapped in a blanket of newly fallen snow. The angel on her right, who had also taken a female form, had silvery blonde hair that was pulled into a long braid that fell over her right shoulder, while the other angel appeared to be a male with short, brown hair that hung slightly over his turquoise eyes. They were an attractive bunch to say the least, but Sebastian knew of their ability to alter their forms.

“We’ve come to hear your proposal, demons,” the white angel announced, “but listening is the only thing we have agreed to do.”

“Of course,” Lilith agreed, stepping forward as she prepared to address the angels.

Sebastian only listened partly because he knew that this was all pointless. If they wanted to have any chance to be successful, they had to be prepared to do things differently. Things had changed.

Except for him. He hadn’t changed.

((X))

Grell walked home slowly, her feet dragging along the sidewalk. Typically, she enjoyed walking because it was a time for her to gather her thoughts and to allow some time to dwell on a fond daydream, but today she was simply too tired. A day of teaching classes followed by far too many reapings had left her mentally and physically exhausted. At least Jasper hadn’t yelled at her like he usually did, nor had he handed back her reports at the last minute to correct some minor mistake. In fact, Jasper had acted almost afraid for some reason and seemed to be actively avoiding her. She ran one hand through her long hair and imagined herself soaking in a nice long bath as she approached the steps to her apartment.

“I expected you back sooner,” William’s voice suddenly announced.

Grell jumped back and managed to stifle a startled gasp as she looked up to see her former supervisor (and lover) standing in front of her door. She blinked several times, half-expecting him to be nothing more than an illusion caused by her tired mind, but the image of William remained. “Will,” she finally managed, “What are you doing here?”

For the briefest of moments, he looked uncertain, which was an expression that looked almost alien on his face, but the moment quickly passed. “There are some things we need to discuss,” he answered.

“Of course,” Grell said, sighing softly. Even after all they had been through, after all they had seen and done, William was still all business. Without saying another word, she stepped past him and unlocked the door and motioned him inside.

Will adjusted his glasses quickly, which Grell had long learned he did more frequently when he was nervous and stepped into her apartment. At first, he simply looked around as if he was worried he was entering enemy territory.

Normally Grell would have made a crack about how he didn’t have to worry because she didn’t bite, unless he wanted her to, but right now she was simply too tired. It wasn’t just her work that exhausted her either. She was also tired of this endless game that she and William were always playing. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” she instructed as she stepped into the bedroom to change from her boring work clothes. She heard Will cross the room and sit on the sofa, a lump rising in her throat as she thought about the last time she had sat on a sofa with William, as she sought a comfortable outfit. She realized, however, that anything she wore might be seen as inappropriate, and she had no idea why William was there. She was struck by just how much things had changed between them. At one time, she would have purposely try to wear something to catch William’s eye, or would have felt comfortable enough to wear whatever she wanted, but not the decision seemed to be a major one. In the end, she simply hung up her jacket, removed the ribbon constricting her hair, and put on her typical pair of red-framed glasses. Seeing that she looked more like herself but not in a way that might insinuate any other thoughts to Will, she smiled slightly before placing her shoes in the closet and retrieving a soft pair of slippers to wear. Feeling a bit more comfortable, she walked back into the living room.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she offered.

William turned to look at her and shook his head quickly. He was obviously nervous and Grell couldn’t help but wonder what was on his mind as she walked over and sat down nervously. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, trying to break the ice.

“I went to see Stepp today,” he answered quickly, “He made it no secret that he doesn’t particularly care for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she mumbled, throwing her head back so that it rested on the sofa.

“He wants to have you transferred to the Reaper Reform Agency.”

“What?” she cried, jerking her head up to look at him, “But I haven’t done anything that bad, at least not for a long time. I mean, I’ve actually tried to be a good agent under him.”

William looked at her steadily. “Sutcliff…Grell, what didn’t you tell anyone what Stepp was doing? You had to know that he was assigning nearly twice the work of anyone else and was purposely making sure your paperwork was late.”

“I knew,” she answered, “but I didn’t think anyone would believe me. It’s not like I have the greatest reputation. Who would take my word over a supervisor?”

Leaning closer, William locked eyes with her. “Is that why you didn’t tell anyone about us?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” she replied, “I didn’t tell anyone because…” She allowed her voice to trail off as she chewed her lip slightly.

“Because?” he prompted.

“Because I didn’t want to embarrass you,” she finished. “If I had told, no one might have believed it, but everyone would have repeated the story. Think about it: the stuffy supervisor and the reckless freak together. It’s the very stuff the greatest rumors are made of, but I didn’t want that. I know how important your career is to you. I didn’t want to hurt your chances at a promotion.”

He seemed surprised. “Do you think I’m embarrassed of you?” 

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head, “I'm more embarrassed by the way I treated you.”

It was Grell’s turn to look surprised. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words simply refused to come. A part of her feared that she looked rather foolish sitting there with her mouth hanging open, but she didn’t have much time to worry because William suddenly leaned over to cover her mouth with his own.

Instinctively, she closed her eyes as she leaned into the kiss. Even before his hands reached out to touch her, her body suddenly came to life as her heart thudded in her chest. She melted into the kiss as her own hands wrapped about him, one tangling in his hair and the other about his neck. She felt him begin to push her back to lie on the couch, and she started to allow it without question.

_“…and don’t let anyone mistreat you. Not even those you actually care about.”_

Her eyes snapped open as Undertaker’s words suddenly echoed in her mind. Pushing away, she ended the kiss suddenly. “Wait,” she said, as she scooted back.

He looked at her in surprise; his hair already disheveled and hanging over his forehead. His breathing had quickened, ever so slightly, and this was exactly the side of Will that she loved to say. In this moment, he wasn’t in complete, calculated control. He wasn’t looking at her coldly, and he wasn’t even caring about the rules. A part of her wanted to forget the thoughts that had been running through her mind ever since speaking with Undertaker and just leap forward to capture his mouth once again, but she knew that she had to say what was on her mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to smooth is hair back but only managing to stick one clump up in a rather spikey fashion. “Why did you stop?”

“Will,” she began, fumbling for the words, “You know I care for you. I love you, and I’ve never made a secret of it. Right?”

“I suppose,” he replied in a somewhat sulky manner, “Although I’ve seen you confess your love to a lot of men.”

“That was different!” she cried, “I was a flirt. I’m still a flirt, but I don’t give my heart away to everyone. She scooted back over to him and put her hand on her shoulder. “Have I ever claimed to love anyone as long as I claimed to have loved you?”

“No,” he admitted, “But, if that’s true, why did you stop? Just to tell me that you loved me?”

She stood and crossed her arms across her chest. Her heart was beating even faster now than before, and the sound of its pounding echoed in her ears like a primal drum. “Because, this isn’t enough,” she finally managed, “I love you, Will. I want to be with you, but it can’t go on like this.” Looking down at him, she could feel her body trembling, but she had to tell him how she felt. “I want a relationship. I don’t want to just spend a night with you to find you gone in the morning and not hear from you again for years. Do you know how much that hurt me? I can’t let you do that again.”

“Grell,” he said softly, standing up to take her shoulders. Comforting didn’t come easily to him, but he was trying his best. "I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t, but please try to understand.” Grell took in a slow breath. “Before we can go on, I have to know. Can there ever be anything more between us then what there is now?”

William looked at her for a few minutes before slowly shaking his head. “No,” he answered, “I have to think of my career and you’re a -”

“Liability,” she finished interrupting him, “I figured as much. The most I’ll ever be is an occasional mistress while you’re married to your career.” Sighing, she stepped away and turned her back so that he couldn’t see the hurt on her face. “I think you’d better go, Will.”

He hesitated for a moment, and she briefly thought that he might change his answer, but the he started towards the door. Just before he reached the door, he paused again. “I’ve been called before the high council,” he said, “I go tomorrow morning.”

“Is anything wrong?” she asked, turning back towards him slightly. Despite her own hurt feelings, she was still worried about him.

“I don’t know. It’s probably about the increase of demon sightings lately.” He looked at her seriously. “Have you seen any demons lately?”

She shook her head. While she had heard that Alan and Eric had, she had run into any herself. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, be careful.” With those words, he left her apartment and shut the door behind him softly. She was alone, but it was far from the first time.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she whispered aloud to the empty walls that surrounded her.

Feeling even more exhausted then before, she made her way back to the couch and sank down on the cushions, but she refused to allow her gaze to drift to the spot where Will had just been sitting. A part of her had always feared this day, but she had always assumed that she would be left a crying, sobbing mess. Maybe she really had grown because she didn’t feel like crying. In fact, she felt very little at all. It was as if her emotions had been jerked out of her forcefully. That was when she realized a simple truth.

She wasn’t crying because she had grown as a person. It was because she simply had no more tears left to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> And so ends the first chapter. I really want feedback on this story because this is very different than anything I usually write. I usually plan everything out to the smallest detail, but I haven't for this story.


End file.
